even as my fingers bleed (they cling to your thorns)
by The Dreaming Hare
Summary: Many in the magical community found the idea of immigrating to America daunting. Gabrielle Delacour was not one of them. Waking to find that you've outlived everyone you ever knew would destroy some men. Steve Rogers was not one of them. One day, their worlds intersect. Neither will remain the same.
1. Prologue

Many in the magical community found the idea of immigrating to America daunting. Those living under the rule of more structured European governments especially so. Muggle America had united under one ruler and parliamentary system, but the magical states remained as such – greatly divided. With different laws and rulers, it was no easy task to choose a sage and prosperous new home.

After much research and several failed visits to various States, Gabrielle Delacour decided to live in New York City. While it was true that they had recently dealt with an alien invasion, the muggles dubbed by their general population as 'superheroes' seemed to have things in hand.

And if they did not? Well, an angry Gabrielle was a force to be reckoned with all the same.

France was wonderful, and Gabrielle loved her family. But she was 26 and it was time for a major change. Her parents had never truly understood her passions, though they had encouraged her as much as they found appropriate. When they had begun to hint at yet more trips to the Veela Colonies, or to more seasonal balls, she knew it was time to forge her own path. She wasn't interested in being a wife to a high-society wizard or in getting busy making little Veela.

To Fleur's endless amusement, Gabrielle's true joy lay in Herbology. While Charms came easily to those of Veela blood, Herbology was a challenge that she had always cherished.

To that end, her research and experimentation had led her to be a rather respected contributor to several publications, including Herbologists Quarterly, Flora, and Magical Gardening Today. Being published had in turn led to some wonderful correspondences from respected Herbologists around the world.

The opportunity to share ideas with those great minds had made her realize how much she was missing by not fully pursuing her passion.

And that's how she found herself in Brooklyn.


	2. A Beginning

When exploring New York City before her move, Gabrielle had quickly realized that despite the large population of magicals here, there was a very different approach to congregation than she was used to.

While the UK and Europe had largely established segregated quarters of cities for magicals, New York City was a truly blended place. Magic lay in plain sight all over the city – in ancient bakeries staffed by witches who had been taught charms long lost to the general populace, bicycle shops with false back walls that opened to reveal the latest line of racing brooms, and in high society tailors who served the city's elite – magical and muggle alike.

Those of mixed and creature blood mingled freely with pureblood and muggles, squibs finding jobs in magical shops, and wizards attending muggle post-secondary institutions. There was of course space designated for magicals only, but their presence was deeply imbedded in all areas of the city.

In short, New York was everything Gabrielle needed to begin anew. She had amassed a respectable nest egg with her Herbology work, but not nearly enough to afford a place in Manhattan. Though Gabrielle intended to pursue studies at the Central Park Hub for Hebological Innovation, she settled into her new home in Brooklyn happily.

Gabrielle had decided to rent a row house with the space for a shop on the first floor. There were other shops on either side, but hers would have a large bay window that they lacked. She had assured her landlady that she was willing to take financial responsibility in the case of any break-ins, and after signing an airtight contract the other woman had begrudgingly had larger windows fitted in both the front and back of the house. Gabi's first action upon arrival was to mutter a quick charm to make the glass at the front unbreakable.

And then she looked around.

It was evening by the time she had arrived, but the darkened street wasn't as quiet as she had expected. The shop to the left of hers looked to be closed already, its window dark against the lilac paint surrounding it. The shop on the right, however, seemed to be booming with business.

The delicious smell of unknown foods wafted out the door as patrons spilled out, laughing and chatting among themselves as they headed home. She smiled at their exuberance and took in her own storefront with a satisfied sigh.

The fresh white paint was immaculate, the black cursive of the shop name standing proud above the window.

 ** _Gabrielle's Garden_**

A simple name, to be sure, but one that she wanted to be proud of in the coming years.

Unlocking the door, the dark wooden floors gleamed in the low light from the window. She looked at the stark white walls and sighed in contentment. It wasn't home yet, but it soon would be. A half-wall topped with frosted glass divided the room neatly, ending a foot below the ceiling. Beyond it lay a staircase to the second floor, which would be her apartment above the shop.

Gabrielle made her way through the door camouflaged into the dividing wall, and up the delicate wrought iron spiral staircase in the corner of the back room. Shadowed against the large back window, the tiny vines and flowers that formed the railings were clear in silhouette and her hand trailed over them gently.

She paused for a moment on the stairs to make the glass of the back window unbreakable, and to prevent things inside from being visible from the outside. That accomplished, she continued upstairs to her living quarters.

The wooden floors on the second floor matched those on the first, though that was the only similarity. The space had been converted into several rooms, the first being a small living room wallpapered with a gentle yellow stripe pattern. A small kitchen and bathroom were just off the living room, and the bedroom beyond that. Gabrielle took stock of the rooms quickly as she made her way to her new bedroom.

Gabrielle couldn't help but laugh as she realised it was wallpapered with a powder blue fleur-de-lis pattern. She decided that she would embrace it as a good sign, and dropped her suitcase to lean up against the window that spanned the upper half of one wall. It looked out onto the street, and she could see that patrons were still entering the shop next door. Otherwise the street was quiet.

She took off the leather satchel she was wearing on her back and rummaged through it for a while before coming up with some shrunken boxes.

With a tap of her wand, they re-sized. She opened them to reveal yet more shrunken boxes. These were re-sized to reveal shrink wrapped furniture that was quickly sorted into rooms. Gabi took aside the bedroom furniture and removed the plastic before bringing them back to their normal size one by one.

With some rather complex charms work, the bedroom furniture was quickly arranged as she wanted it. A large bed stood underneath the window, covered in a powder blue and gold duvet. A small lounge chaise took its place at the foot of the bed, gold with carved wooden legs. Rounding out the room included a wardrobe, a small round mirror with flowers around the rim, and a white upholstered wingback chair with matching footstool that went to live in the corner of the room next to a slim bookcase.

Sparing a look at her satchel and suitcase, Gabrielle kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the bed. Setting up shop and could wait until tomorrow, as could figuring out how she wanted the rest of the apartment. For now, it was enough that she had this small haven to herself. Listening to the soft echoes of the merriment next door and staring up at the bare ceiling, her last thought was that she would have to enchant it to reflect the stars. She would miss them in the city, she was certain.

And then she slept.


	3. An Ending

When stepping out into New York City after he awakened from the ice, Steve Rogers had quickly realized that despite his upbringing in Brooklyn he was a stranger to this city. He was often taken aback and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people here – sidewalks, restaurants, transit, and even gyms were flooded with them.

And it was _loud_.

Traffic noises alone were incredibly difficult to adjust to, but when you added in the smells and sights, and the constant crush of bodies… well, Steve didn't venture out of his small base for quite some time.

Instead, he stayed in his SHIELD-assisted apartment _(we thought you'd like to stay somewhere besides the training facility)_ and sat on his large grey couch for a while. The city was still recovering from the Chitauri attack, and everything still didn't seem quite real to Steve as he wrestled with his thoughts and with nightmares of Bucky falling and massive creatures blotting out the sun in equal measure.

To the rest of the world, Bucky had died decades ago, but to him the wound was as raw as the alien invasion, and far more personal.

Weeks ago, he had been fighting a war. He had been mourning his friend's death. He had been risking his life to stop the obliteration of the very city he now found himself. He had been a soldier. He had been planning a date with Peggy. Peggy who was now an old woman who may not remember him at all. Who had had a full life with a husband and a family after his supposed death.

He was afraid to find out what had happened to the Howling Commandos. He couldn't quite bring himself to ask anyone yet.

As he stared at his blank walls and modern furniture, Steve wondered not for the first time if he had died in that plane and if this reality was some strange divine test or purgatory.

This wasn't his New York City.

Still, when he began to run out of the food anonymous SHIELD agents had stocked in his apartment, he knew that he couldn't keep hiding. He would have to face the city eventually.

Shrugging on loose clothes and a leather jacket, Steve made his way out of the apartment and into the street. He took a moment to breathe as he opened the front door, and then picked a direction and started walking. Even with his military back pay, Steve had decided he wouldn't move back to Dumbo.

The rent was too atrocious to consider, and so he found a small place in a more reasonable area. If he were being honest with himself, he would admit that the thought of seeing Dumbo as changed as the rest of the city up close would wound him more than he could take right now. Brooklyn as he remembered it was no more.

As Steve walked further from his apartment he examined his new neighbourhood for the first time. Apartments and row houses crowded close, kids loitering on steps and harried looking parents watching them from windows. Shops of all kinds filled the bottom floors of some of the row houses, and Steve peeked into their front windows as he passed.

First came a Greek bakery, with a stunning cake displayed in their front window and a sign advertising 'the best bread for the best price'. Next, a bicycle repair shop with several young people standing outside smoking. Then, what appeared to be an eclectic second hand shop with an older woman behind the counter. Pausing a moment at the threshold, he decided not to go in and continued on his way.

Eventually he came to a shop with fruit and vegetable stands outside, and began to gather some groceries. Looking at the prices, he reminded himself about inflation and how much time had passed since he last bought groceries. Heading inside with his fresh haul, he stopped to buy some bread and meat, marvelling at the freedom his newfound money afforded him.

All set, Steve made his way to the counter to pay. After setting down his groceries he nervously pulled out his wallet and took out his new card. The man behind the counter gave him a cursory glance and a smile as he began ringing though his items.

"Hello, how are you today?"

It took Steve a moment to find his voice, and he replied awkwardly after a long silence.

"Uh, good. Thank you. Um, how are you?"

"I'm well thank you, sir. Any bags?"

Steve blinked. "Sorry?"

"For your groceries, sir. Would you like any bags?"

"Oh! Yes, please. However many you think…," he gestured at the counter as his voice faded into silence.

The man finished ringing him through and began bagging his items as he saw Steve's hesitation. Finishing quickly, he looked at Steve once more.

"And how will you be paying today?"

Steve stood silently as he showed the man his new card. From what he understood, this wasn't the same as a charge card. Not that he'd ever had one, but this new card took money directly from his bank account to pay for things.

"Alright, you can go ahead," the clerk said, gesturing to a small machine with a keypad.

Steve examined it carefully and inserted his card, remembering to follow the prompts on the little screen and belatedly realizing he should probably change his PIN number to something other than his birthday. Still, this was his first purchase since he'd awoken from the ice so he figured his success at paying was worth something.

Taking his bags of groceries, Steve smiled and nodded as the clerk wished him a good day.

Back outside, Steve looked around with new eyes. He was here now. The war was over. As he made his way slowly home, he looked at the sky, and at fellow pedestrians going about their lives. He noticed people of all ages, mixed race and queer couples, children with their grandparents, a young woman with a cat on a leash. He realized that in a six block radius there was a Catholic Church, a Synagogue, and what he thought may be a temple of some kind.

His spirits lifted, and he began to walk with purpose. Reaching his apartment, Steve set his groceries down to look out the window. There was an art-supply store across the street. He promised himself that he would visit it soon – maybe he'd document the changes between his Brooklyn and this strange new world.

This wasn't his Brooklyn, not yet.

But maybe one day it could be.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _I'm intending to continue this story as my project for NaNoWriMo2016, so hopefully you can expect frequent updates this month._

 _I would love any comments, and would appreciate it if readers would let me know what sort of chapter length they enjoy when reading!_

 _Please note that I'm not an American. I've never been to NYC, and I've only done rather brief research to determine that row houses are indeed a thing there and that demographics are as diverse as I presumed. If you happen to live in NYC, feel free to correct me on what I've written._

 _As for Steve's perspective - he's kind of a downer. War will do that to you - mental illness will definitely feature in this fic. Things for him will improve eventually, but things between he and Gabrielle won't occur for a while yet._


End file.
